


Easy (should be banned from Percy's vocabulary)

by Evil_Keshi



Series: Easy [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CIA, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: In spite of his job at the CIA, loving Percival was supposed to be easy - and it was, up until that night, when Trouble came barging in without knocking. And for Credence, it was just the beginning of the problems.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Welcome to the second part of my Easy series! I'm so excited to publish this prologue, I really hope that you will like it :)
> 
> (To anyone who stumbled upon this without having read the first part, I suggest you do that before reading this one: I think it will be easier to understand exactly where the characters are coming from. But of course, you're free to do as you want!)

  


Thursday 24th of October, 7:46 pm

It was raining when a young man emerged from the subway station in Lower Manhattan. His tall and slender silhouette hunched over as if it would protect him for the heavy rain but even as the young man started to run, clutching his messenger bag to his chest, it did nothing to keep him from being soaked in a minute. Credence grumbled and blamed himself for not having thought of checking the weather forecast that morning, or else he would have carried an umbrella with him.

The dark sky was crying fat tears that dripped down the young man's neck and slipped under the collar of his coat, drawing long shivers from his body. He crossed a street in a hurry, walked straight into a puddle he had missed, too distracted as he only thought of getting back home, and he groaned when he felt the cold water splashing around his shoes, soaking his socks and the hem of his trousers. Great.

The first thing he would do upon coming home would be to run himself a hot bath - if he was lucky, perhaps Percival would join him. The thought made a smile curl up his lips and suddenly, Credence could not have paid any more attention to the rain, even if he had wanted to. In his mind, the sensation of cold all around him had subdued, giving plenty of room to the much warmer idea of _home_.

It still amazed him, even after two years and half, that he had finally found his place in the world and a home with the love of his life. Tina kept saying that they had gone really fast, but Credence disagreed. If his misadventure with Grindelwald had taught him something, it was this: life was too short to take his time. He could have died, three years ago, and now nobody would dictate him how he should live his life, not even Tina, although she meant well. Besides, how could they have gone too fast when Percival had been so hesitant at first?

Thankfully, a few months had been enough to make the CIA agent realise just how far gone he was on Credence, and he had eventually thrown himself into their relationship with little to no reservations at all.

As he walked by _Lombardi's_ , Credence's steps faltered. His lecture at the university had ended earlier than planned and Percival had probably come back home a little while ago already, but he surely did not expect the student for another half-hour at least... He had certainly not got their dinner ready yet, had he? Perhaps Credence should surprise him and bring back pizzas, so that they could put them in the oven, take a hot bath together and then eat while lazing on the couch in their pyjamas... Sounded like a plan.

The weather didn't agree with him, however. Just as Credence had made up his mind and was about to enter _Lombardi's_ , a thunderbolt cracked above his head and illuminated the sky in threatening hues of grey and black that had Credence breaking into a run. Never mind the pizzas, the young man preferred to go back home right now and cook up something easy with his boyfriend.

It took Credence ten more minutes of running and jumping over growing puddles of water before he finally made it home. While he blindly fumbled inside his bag in search for the keys, he caught sight of the window on the second floor and saw that the lights were on, which made him smile as he imagined Percival changing into comfortable sweatpants and an old sweater for the evening. He always found it funny, to see the director of the CIA's Department of Security, always so impeccably dressed in tailored suits, drop the vest in favour of threadbare pyjamas.

When the young man finally walked inside the house, he closed and locked the door behind himself then threw his messenger bag in a corner, right over Percival's shoes, and he took off his own to hurry up the stairs, still clad in his soaked coat. He imagined he could catch his lover naked, or at least half-naked, but the scene he fell upon as he stepped inside their bedroom made him stop dead in his tracks.

A huge duffel bag laid on their bed, open and already half-filled with clothes. Percival was kneeling in front of the wardrobe, trying to grab something at the bottom - a tie, probably, as they always slipped off the hangers, even those made specifically for them. A real waste of money.

"Percival?" Credence called out.

His lover had apparently not heard him come back, for he jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice and turned around with wide eyes, clutching a carmine tie in his fist. The shocked expression quickly vanished though, and the older man schooled his face into something neutral that didn't sit well with Credence. Something seemed off.

"Credence!" Percival breathed out. "You're home early..."

"Yes," the boy answered, a little put off by his partner's cold demeanour - where was his welcome-home kiss? "The lecturer didn't feel too well, so he ended the class early. You... Are you going somewhere?"

He glanced at the duffel bag at the same time as Percival did and he didn't miss the frown on his lover's face. Was it the CIA? As the director of the Department of Security, he had a lot of meetings to attend everywhere around the States but also in Europe, although those particular trips happened less often. Most of the time though, they knew beforehand that Percival would be travelling for a few days... But sadly, emergency meetings existed as well.

"I'm leaving," Percival said at last, which was not very helpful since Credence had guessed that much already.

It did not take a spy to understand that a duffel bag meant travelling.

"How long will you be gone?" the boy asked, taking a few steps toward him. "When do you have to leave? Where are you going this time?"

The usual questions. Sometimes, Percival could not tell him where he would be spending the upcoming few days - _national security, love, can't say much_ \- but he would make sure to leave Credence with the memory of a burning goodbye kiss. Most of the time, these business trips didn't last more than a week or two and Credence would take extra shifts at Jacob's bakery or spend his evenings studying, everything to get Percival's absence out of his mind.

Usually, his numerous questions would make Percival laugh - a delicious sound, way too rare if you asked Credence, but this time he only sighed.

"Credence..." he started, but he trailed off hesitantly.

"Oh. You're going on a mission, aren't you?" the younger man asked on a soft tone.

In theory, the head of the Department of Security wasn't supposed to go on the field like regular agents; Percival, however... Well, he had never wanted to remain stuck in an office as a director in the first place: he belonged in the field, he was too precious an asset not to use during interventions. Moreover, his current charge had been bestowed upon him by Seraphina Picquery, who hadn't really asked for his opinion before, so he hadn't had any other choice than to agree with her decision. She knew her agent, though. She was aware that he would go crazy if he stayed in an office five days a week, so from time to time, she gave him a mission to carry out, quickly and efficiently.

Percival usually loved these occasions to do the job he actually wanted to do and even though he couldn't give Credence the details, he always roughly explained what risks the mission entailed (or didn't) so that his young boyfriend would not worry too much.

But tonight, there was no excitement in Percival's dark eyes. The younger man felt his heart start to beat faster with the realisation that something was seriously wrong and eventually, his lover spoke up:

"It's not... It's not a mission, Credence. In fact, it's not even the CIA that sends me away."

"Then what is it?" the young man asked, closing the distance between his lover and he to take the other's hands in his own, but the gentle touch was rejected as Percival stepped aside just in time.

Credence tried not to show how much the dismissal hurt him and he hid his disappointment and his confusion to the best of his ability: something seemed to be bothering Percival and he didn't want to burden him further with his own reactions, not when they were perhaps not justified. He just needed to know what was going on.

"I'm leaving," Percival repeated at last, "I'm leaving... you."

Credence didn't understand at first and he stared at his lover with furrowed brows, until his brain registered the meaning of the words. _I'm leaving you_. As in...

"Are you..." the young man started, voice rough with emotion and incomprehension, "Percival, are you breaking up with me?"

The older man nodded at once and Credence felt like he had just been doused in cold water.

"W... What? Why?" he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would start shouting and then break into tears. "Is there... someone else?"

"No," Percival answered truthfully, "there isn't. We just... Credence, this, _us_... We don't work together."

"Don't!" the young man immediately exclaimed, wiping furiously at his wet eyes. "Don't say that, it's not true and you know it! If you want to break up with me, at least have the courage to give me a real reason!"

Credence knew that he would regret his words as soon as he saw Percival's face harden. He wanted the truth? Well, there it was.

"I don't love you anymore."

Cold, cruel words. The young man felt himself stagger on his feet as he raised hesitant, pleading eyes towards his lover, who turned away after a few rapid seconds and kept throwing clothes in his bag. Credence opened his mouth but nothing came out, as he was too shaken to utter a single syllable. Even the questions in his mind wouldn't pass his lips, albeit they were many: what had he done wrong? What mistakes had he made? What should he have done differently? And why now, why so suddenly? Percival had never voiced any complaint, not recently at least, and even though they fought sometimes (but not often, thankfully, and for trivial matters like the wet towel Percival often left on the bathroom floor), they had never been unable to make up.

When Percival zipped his bag shut, he looked around as if to check that he had not forgotten anything of importance, and his gaze briefly stopped on Credence.

"I love you," the young man whispered, "Please, Percival..."

The agent looked like he wanted to say something but at the very last second, he clenched his jaw and scowled, then he grabbed his bag and strode toward the door of their bedroom without a word. Credence heard his footsteps in the stairs, then a rustle of fabric, and as he closed his eyes, he could imagine Percival putting his long black coat on, just like he would on a windy Sunday morning to go get croissants and bear claws for their breakfast. But there would be no more breakfasts in bed.

The front door slammed shut but the noise was drowned in the crash of thunder outside, and the boy opened his eyes. Dazed, Credence stepped back, clutching his chest, until his calves hit the bed and he could sit down. He didn't cry, at first, as he fought the emptiness crawling in the pit of his stomach. The freezing sensation he had felt outside, in the rain, was nothing compared to the icy fist closing around his heart, the painful spike of cold digging deeper and deeper in his chest, because Percival... Percival...

Thinking about it was too much: a sob was ripped off of Credence's throat and the dam that held back his tears suddenly broke as the boy collapsed on their bed, hugging the pillow that still smelled like Percival.

  


  


Thursday 24th of October, 8:22pm

When Percival stepped over the threshold of his and Credence's house and closed the door, he stopped for a few seconds with his eyes closed, resting his forehead on the wooden panel. They had chosen this place together one year ago, a little house not too far from the university, that they had turned into a comfortable cocoon of warmth and love.

Full of regrets, the man took a step back and lifted his eyes up to the window of the second floor, to the bedroom where he had left Credence, and he brought his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against two fingers before he raised them in the air, in a silent farewell.

Percival then turned around and walked away, crossing the street in hurried steps in direction of the black CIA car waiting for him. He threw his duffel bag on the backseat, opened the passenger door and climbed in, feeling relieved as he entered the warm - and dry! - vehicle.

"Everything's all right, Sir?" the driver asked from behind the wheel. "I saw your companion come back earlier, have you told him about..."

"Shut up and drive, Abernathy," the agent growled, since talking about Credence was the last thing he wanted right now.

Abernathy seemed to remember that one time Percival had broken his nose, for he complied without another word and drove away into the storm.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked this prologue... and that you are ready to get on this new rollercoaster with me! Buckle up! (And don't forget to leave some feedback, it would make my day!) Until next time!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with the first "real" chapter! I hope you'll enjoy it :) Just as a warning: alcohol used as a way to cope with sadness (which, don't.) And if you want to get in the mood a little, you might want to listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTSEX31kIcc). Enjoy!

  


Friday the 1st of November, 9:25pm

Credence was staring at his empty plate without seeing it, eyes lost somewhere in the cherry red spirals patterned on the white dish. Those came from Percival's tiny flat, the one Credence and he had lived in for six months or so, before they decided to move in a bigger house together. The young man felt his eyes burn with tears at the memory.

He knew that it was a bad idea and yet, his fingers wrapped themselves around the bottle of whiskey that had been stashed in one of the kitchen cabinets until two hours ago. He was aware of making a big mistake, opening it and taking two long gulps of alcohol, but tonight he didn't want to care. He hoped it would numb him at least a little, help with the cold in his heart, and perhaps it would even enable him to sleep for a few hours.

Credence had been unable to rest on the first night: he had sobbed in the bed until morning came and then, feeling too tired and sad to get up, he had missed his classes. He had called in sick at Jacob's bakery too. The second night, one look at the bed had been enough to make him wheel round. It looked too big now that he was supposed to sleep alone.

The young man had turned the couch in the living room into a makeshift bed but even so, he had not slept much: Percival's words kept haunting his mind, day and night alike, and although Credence was exhausted and needed to sleep at least a few hours, he couldn't.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised that Percival had not expected Credence to catch him packing up. After all, he was supposed to come home later, after his lecture. He didn't know how to feel, drifting between sorrow and anger, at the thought that Percival had planned on leaving him in secret, without a word of explanation.

Even as it was, Credence hadn't gotten much of a clarification... _I don't love you anymore_. Enough to justify Percival's decision and at the same time, not enough at all. Where had they gone wrong, so wrong that his lover didn't even feel like _trying_ anymore?

Credence had called him, on the fifth night. Seeking answers or desperate to hear his voice, he wasn't too sure, but it had proved useless anyway: Percival hadn't taken the call. Instead, his serious, disembodied voice had resounded, suggesting to leave a message after the tone. Credence hadn't - but he had called back twice, just to hear Percival again and again. He knew he was pining and completely ridiculous, but he couldn't help it.

He just hurt so much, his heart ached and he longed for Percival's strong embrace, but knowing that he would never feel those arms wrap tightly around him again... It made his already broken heart shatter into tiny pieces, that would mend together only to be smashed again when he stumbled upon another memory.

Credence shook his head, coming back to reality, and he bit his lips as he realised that he was crying. Again. He had also downed half the bottle, way too fast. He never drank, even during parties - he had barely taken a sip of wine on the night Tina and Newt announced their engagement and even then, not from his own glass. It had been Percival's.

Fresh tears spilled over. He should stop crying, he knew that, but apparently the boy wasn't a happy drunk, quite the opposite. Credence carefully untangled his legs from the mess of sheets and blankets gathered on his couch-slash-bed and stood up, still clutching onto the bottle of whiskey, to stagger to the kitchen in order to get a glass of water. He had only taken two unsteady steps though, when the doorbell rang loudly in the silent house.

Credence remained frozen on his spot. It was late, who could possibly...? His heart suddenly skipped a beat. What if... What if Percival had come back? It wasn't impossible, right? Even if he wasn't returning for him, he still had some belongings of his to pack, so maybe... Just maybe. Credence definitely knew that he should not get his hopes up, that the person behind the door might very well not be Percival and if it were, well, maybe it didn't mean anything at all...

Still, the young man nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to open the door. Barefooted, half-drunk and only clad in a pair of sweatpants and an unbuttoned shirt that belonged to Percival and was way too big for him, Credence ran and nearly collided with the door, that he unlocked and opened with shaky hands.

The sudden rush of disappointment left him lightheaded, unless it was the effect of the alcohol, and a few more tears rolled down his pale cheeks as he looked at the newcomer.

"T... Tina?" he asked, halfway through a sob that he couldn't hold back.

She looked grim, more severe than he had ever seen her, and he suddenly remembered the bottle in his left hand. He tried to hide it behind his back as subtly as possible but it was too late: Tina's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Credence..." she said, slowly. "Have you been drinking?"

"No," he lied.

The woman didn't call him out on his obvious lie, for she suddenly noticed the tears that marred his face. In an instant, she had shoved him inside the house and slammed the door shut behind them. Hands gripping his shoulders tightly, almost painfully, she stared at him with an expression akin to fear in her eyes and asked in urgency:

"You already know, don't you? Who told you? Did they get in touch with you? What did they say?"

"W... What?" the young man said weakly, feeling like the whole room was spinning. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Credence, focus!" Tina urged him on, patting his cheeks. "Did you drink a lot? And why the fuck did you think that drinking was a good idea in the first place?"

"I just wanted to sleep," he mumbled, looking down at his bare feet, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself. "It's too hard. Every time I close my eyes, I see him and he... he says that he doesn't love me, and I... I get so cold in... inside and..."

He couldn't finish his sentence. Instead of fighting to get coherent words out, Credence started to sob and collapsed in Tina's arms, crying on her shoulder. She went stiff underneath him and she slowly enquired:

"Credence, what are you talking about?"

"P... Percival," he whispered, "He b... broke up with me last week and..."

Tina suddenly pushed him back, still holding onto his shoulders so that he would stay on his feet, and she stared at him with wide eyes as if she had just realised something of the utmost importance.

"He did what?!" she exclaimed, clearly angry.

Oh. So, she didn't know, Credence understood. Percival had probably not told her anything, he was quite discreet when it came to his emotions and personal life... Besides, Credence had not spread the news either, wallowing in his misery instead, and he had even ignored Queenie's call when she had tried to reach him on his cell phone the previous day. Or was it two days ago already? He couldn't remember, he just knew that he hadn't called back. Maybe she and Jacob were worried... That would explain Tina's presence, in spite of the late hour: she wanted to make sure that he was still alive.

"He broke up with me," Credence whispered to make the situation clear for Tina, doing his best to ignore the hard lump in his throat. "He doesn't want me anymore, doesn't love me..."

"Okay, you know that's not true," Tina interrupted him kindly - but her words made Credence's heart ache with hopes he knew he shouldn't trust.

"He told me himself," he added on a quiet tone. "Hard not to believe when he looks at you straight in the eyes and says, _I don't love you anymore_."

"When did it happen?"

The young man shot Tina a wounded look, wondering why the time seemed to matter to her. Was it not enough to know where they currently stood? Did she really want to torture him with the painful details of the story? Not that he didn't know exactly when Percival had broken his heart: Credence nearly counted the seconds that were drawing him farther and farther away from the last time he had spoken to his lover.

"Thursday, last week," he breathed out.

He caught her gaze hardening and briefly wondered why, until she let out a frustrated sigh and exclaimed:

"Percival Graves, you moron!"

Credence almost glared at her, before thinking that perhaps he should share her opinion, considering his situation and the mess Percival had turned him into. He couldn't, though.

"Listen, Credence," Tina suddenly said, "I need to talk to you and I need you to be as sober as possible to fully understand me. Go take a shower and try not to drown yourself, all right? I'll wait right here."

Credence didn't miss the way her eyes wandered around the house, as if she was looking for something, or maybe making sure that she didn't spot anything suspicious, and he suddenly recalled her first words. She had spoken about people - but whom did she mean? - wondering if they had gotten in touch with him - why would they? And she had thought that these people were the reason for his tears... His stomach twisted in worry. None of this was reassuring, it all sounded too much like CIA matters were intruding in his life _again_ and not in the good way.

The young man ran a febrile hand through his hair, upsetting the gentle waves of his half-long locks. Shower, Tina had said. Right, he could do that. Maybe the world would make more sense afterwards.

  


  


Friday the 1st of November, 10:17pm

When Credence came back downstairs after his shower, wrapped in a white bathrobe that bore tiny embroidered initials - _P.G._ \- at the back of the neck, he felt a little on edge, finally realising that Tina was not there only to make sure that he was eating, sleeping or showering properly.

He cleared his throat when he came back to the living room, feeling like a stranger in his own house as he took a seat. Tina had straightened up the couch, gathering the pillows together and folding the blankets; the bottle of whiskey had vanished and the dishes from the two previous evenings were piling in the sink.

"Drink," the agent told him, handing him a tall glass of water at the same time as she sat in front of him.

Credence obeyed. The shower had helped him clear his mind a little, although he could still feel the alcohol slowing his thoughts, words and moves, and he welcomed the glass like a man who had spent weeks in the desert.

"Are you with me?" Tina asked gently once he'd emptied his glass.

"Yes," Credence answered slowly, looking down so that he wouldn't have to meet the woman's eyes, "I'm sorry for... drinking. The mess, too. You shouldn't have had to clean that up but... Thank you."

"It was no trouble," Tina immediately said with a shrug.

Credence lifted his head hesitantly and as he finally looked at her, he noticed that the woman was fidgeting with her engagement ring, turning it around her finger in a telltale sign of nervousness.

"You wanted to talk to me," he reminded her after a few seconds, wondering if the prospect of doing that made her that nervous.

A forced smile appeared on her lips, which was enough of an answer, and Credence braced himself for the worst.

"What is going on?" he prompted her.

"Okay," she sighed, "First of all: Percival loves you. Everything he said was... Well, stupid, for starters. He..."

"Tina..." Credence interrupted her, feeling new sobs try to fight their way out, "Please, don't... Don't say that to comfort me, if it's not true..."

"I'm going to kill him," she grumbled between gritted teeth, before she spoke louder again, "Credence, listen to me. Last week, on Thursday? Percival was getting ready for a mission. He..."

"He said he didn't..." the boy started, but one pointed look from Tina was enough to hush him. "Sorry..."

"I should start at the beginning," the agent said quietly. "This is classified and I can't give you all the details, but... Two months ago, several criminal organisations popped on our radar, not only in the USA but also in England - the MI6 tipped us off. The point is, their modus operandi looks a lot like Grindelwald's."

Credence froze, staring at her in worry. Did she mean that he was back? But... He was supposed to be in prison, somewhere in England, and Percival had not mentioned his escaping or anything of the sort, so... What was going on?

"We dispatched several agents on the field to gather as much intelligence as we could, but... Percival had this idea in mind, infiltration, go deep undercover. A dangerous mission. Needless to say that he volunteered."

Credence felt his heart sink at the bottom of his stomach. Percival hadn't told him anything about that mission, he...

"He didn't want you to be involved," Tina added, as if she had read his mind. "He knew it could be risky and he didn't want to endanger you. He thought that if you knew nothing at all of his whereabouts, no one could interrogate you, thus you wouldn't be in danger. He was supposed to leave quietly, I don't know how you two came face to face, in the end."

"I came back earlier that night," Credence whispered. "So what, he wanted to leave me on my own, without even a note to tell me not to worry?"

"I told him it was stupid," Tina mumbled. "I didn't think he would do anything stupider than that, though. Credence, you must understand that he didn't mean what he said that night, I think he was just... trying to protect you. And in his mind, I guess it involved breaking your heart and hurting you enough so that you wouldn't care if anything happened to him."

Tears burned the corners of Credence's dark eyes. How... How could he think that? Even apart, even heartbroken, how could he not care about Percival?

"How long?" he croaked out, "How long before he can come back?"

Credence had no idea what _deep undercover_ exactly entailed. Did it mean months without seeing hide or hair of Percival? Or... more? Good Lord, why had they agreed to let him take on this mission? He was the head of the Department of Security, how could they send him away so easily? Tina said he had volunteered but... Well, he had to admit that Percival was stubborn enough to fight the whole CIA in order to get this job, if he so wanted. Was it because of him? Did it feel personal to Percival, was it the reason why he had wanted to take on this Grindelwald emulator himself?

"About that..." Tina slowly started, gauging the young man's reactions, "We... We have a problem, Credence."

The boy swallowed. Problems, when they involved the CIA, weren't the same sort of problems that a random, normal citizen would face in his everyday life. If Tina said they had a problem... It didn't bode well. It meant guns, life or death situations and all those troubles he had experienced firsthand almost three years ago, none of which he ever wanted to go through again. Now, none of the CIA problems should matter to him because, in spite of his relation with Percival, he was _not_ one of their agents. It would only involve him if something had happened to...

Credence turned wide, fearful eyes towards Tina, questions stuck in his throat, heart beating fast. The room wasn't spinning anymore; instead, the whole world was crashing down on him.

"We were on six hours comms windows," she explained softly to answer his silent, urgent query. "Percival missed five."

He quickly did the math. The CIA hadn't heard from Percival for thirty hours, at least.

"What does that mean?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"We usually consider that our assets, if they miss three windows, are either in deep trouble or dead," Tina told him, keeping her voice calm and low so that the young man would not panic, all the while struggling with her own apprehension. "Percival missed five, Credence. We... We have his last known location and we're looking for him. But..."

"He... He can't be dead," Credence stammered - but he sounded unsure, more like he was pleading and begging for the words to be real. "He... Tina..."

She shook her head, refusing to promise him anything. She didn't know, she could only hope and pray that her boss, her _friend_ , was still alive. However, the agent inside her worried about something else, something she would not share with Credence: if Percival's cover was blown but the man himself was still alive somehow, she knew what awaited him. Beatings. Torture. Graves might be a tough man, he was still just a man, but one who knew the most intricate details about the CIA and every single name of their undercover agents. If he broke down and talked... Hundreds of people would be in danger, not only in the States but also everywhere the CIA had sent agents on missions. From a personal and professional point of view, getting Percival back was a top priority.

Tina realised that Credence was crying again and she stood to cross the living-room and sit beside him.

"I'm sorry," she said, aware that words wouldn't be enough to comfort the young man. "We are doing everything we can, I promise. I'll keep you updated... Say, why don't you spend the weekend at our place? You can't stay alone tonight."

Credence weakly nodded, aware that it was probably for the best - even though being surrounded by people was the last thing he wanted right now. He liked Newt and Tina of course, they were Percival's friends (hence his own, he guessed), but he needed some time alone to sort out his thoughts. He had one more sleepless night ahead of him, he knew as much.

The young man, sick with worry, let Tina go upstairs to pack some clothes and slowly stood up. He felt empty, like he had lost everything that made him tick. Only the fear remained. He wrapped the bathrobe more tightly around him, wishing the soft fabric could turn into Percival's arms, and he vaguely took note that he should change. He didn't feel like it, though. He didn't feel like doing much of anything.

When Tina came back downstairs with a light travel bag, she seemed to realise that Credence couldn't function properly right now, and compassion softened her expression. The young man had believed for days that his lover didn't love him and he had just found out that it was a lie, only to understand that the truth might be even crueller. Tina was worried sick about Percival and they were just friends, so she could only imagine how Credence felt right now. If the situations were reversed, if Newt was the one to go missing... She would go crazy. A wonder how the boy was still standing.

"You can stay in your pyjamas," she suggested kindly when it became clear that Credence would never be able to go upstairs and change, trying to put him at ease, "Newt and I won't mind."

He gave a weak nod and Tina added, treading carefully:

"Credence... Percival knew this mission could be dangerous. Before he left, he made me promise that Newt and I would watch over you, if anything were to happen to him, and..."

"He's not dead," the young man said sharply, turning hollow eyes to her. "He's not dead!"

Tina bit her lips. They didn't know that. Credence was young and didn't work in the same field as her, he couldn't understand... Along the years, Tina had lost more fellow agents that she could count. She hoped that it would not come to this but if Percival was to be added to the list... She was ready, unlike Credence. It wasn't the right time to throw that agonizing possibility in his face, though.

"I'm just saying that until we find him," she started, keeping the _dead or alive_ for herself, "you can count on us. If you need anything, someone to talk to or... Anything, we are here for you. All right?"

Credence nodded and looked down, feeling miserable and powerless, unable to help his lover in the slightest. He would have to trust Tina and the CIA team working on Percival's case... And wait.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! Feel free to leave some feedback/rant/ask questions, I'll be delighted to read what you think! Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the delayed chapter, real life got in the way... Also, I start my finals next week so bear with me if the updates are not too regular yet =/ That being said, enjoy this chapter! :)

  


Monday 4th of November, 4:51pm

Credence stood in front of his house with apprehension, his stomach tied in knots as he looked at the door, his keys clutched in his trembling hand. He didn't dare to go in, fearing the silence that would welcome him instead of the clear, happy _hey love, how was your day?_ he had grown used to.

Spending the weekend with Newt and Tina had both been a marvellous and a dreadful idea. On the plus side, he had not stayed alone with his thoughts and questions; on the down side, his friends' jobs were a constant reminder of what was going on. Tina had gotten and made several phone calls while he was there, all with one purpose: asking if anyone had heard anything about the missing director of the Department of Security. No one had.

Meanwhile, Newt had tried to trace Percival's cell phone, which they had eventually located in a CIA safe house. The device had almost run out of battery when they found it but the screen showed several missed calls, including Credence's from several days ago. On the small kitchen table lay a few newspapers, the last one dated from the 28th of October: it looked like Percival had not returned to the safe house since that day. It didn't match the time when he had missed his communication windows with the CIA, though, so Newt supposed that Percival had been forced to find some other place, for an unknown reason. It didn't bode well.

In spite of the bad news, Tina had tried her best to keep Credence's mind off those matters, inviting Queenie and Jacob over for dinner on Sunday. The kind baker had heard about what happened through his girlfriend but he did his best not to mention Percival around the table: one look at his young friend had told him that the boy was ready to break down. He had tried to cheer him up then, telling stories about his trips to Poland with his grandmother when he was a little kid.

It had worked. Credence had been able to smile, even laugh a little, as Jacob recalled how he had been chased around by a mad cow in a field, but it had not lasted long. In the end, it had been quite a relief to wake up that morning and get ready for his classes: on the NYU campus, no one knew what his boyfriend did for a living, no one knew that he had gone missing, and no one would dance around him, afraid to say the wrong thing.

The day felt almost normal, except for that horrible sensation in Credence's stomach. The fear, the doubt, the powerlessness. Thinking that he was sitting there, learning about common judicial mistakes and how to avoid them, while his lover was... Captive, somewhere. _Not dead_ , he thought as he furiously jotted down his teacher's words, about keeping records of everything. Percival could not be dead. He was one of the bests the CIA had. He could not be dead.

Those thoughts had been running through his mind ever since Friday, keeping him up at night still, and Credence had only managed to rest for a few hours after crying himself to sleep last Saturday. He needed to sleep and he knew it, yet he also knew that he would get very little rest in his house, where everything screamed that Percival was not there.

Delaying the inevitable moment when he finally had to gather his courage and step inside, Credence decided to retrieve the mail, something he had not done during the past week since checking his bills had been the last thing on his mind. He only got one though, the water bill, as well as a postcard from their neighbours who had gone on a vacation in Ireland, and a letter that...

Credence froze. The name on the creamy envelop was his own but it wasn't what made his heart stop: he would have recognised the delicate and neat handwriting even in the dark.

Credence opened the front door faster than he had thought he would, all apprehension forgotten, and slammed it shut behind him. Throwing his keys on the wooden console in the hall, he all but ran to the living-room, fingers frantically tearing at the thick envelop to get the letter out as quickly as he could. Shaking, he eventually managed to unfold the sheet of paper and plopped down on the couch to read Percival's letter.

Credence brushed his fingertips over the first words, written in round but slightly oblique cursive, as if Percival had known that he didn't have much time. Was he already aware of being in danger then? Maybe the letter would give him the answers he was looking for... Taking a deep breath, the young man started to read, hearing Percival's voice in his head as his eyes glided over the words.

_Dear Credence,_

_If you are reading this letter, I'm probably dead. I know, it sucks. It's also tactless but hey, how do you tell someone, tactfully, that you're dead?_

_I'm not doing this right. I'm sorry, I was never trained to do this... I guess I should start at the beginning, though._

_We are now Sunday the 27th of October, it's 4am. I'll arrange to have this letter sent to you by next week if anything happens to me in the next few days... If not, you won't receive this letter at all. I hope you won't._

_I'm on a mission. I know I didn't tell you why I was leaving nor where, I'm sorry. But it looked like Grindelwald was rising again, or at least the guys we were dealing with took care of their business the same way he did. I didn't want to tell you and have you worrying about this, I know we don't talk about it often but I also know that what happened in the past is still fresh in your head... I didn't want to reopen your - no, our wounds. Grindelwald's still in prison, though, so we had no idea at the office of who could be behind all this and I suggested to take care of the matter by myself._

_I realise now that I shouldn't have. I know who's ruling the criminal organisations: I met him just two hours ago and I think he recognised me, although I only understood who he was when I heard his name._

_It's Tom, Credence. The same Tom who worked for Grindelwald three years ago, the one we couldn't catch at the airport after we rescued you. His full name is Tom Riddle. He used to work for the CIA and I guess that's exactly how Grindelwald recruited him. This is also why I'm sending this letter to you: I'm not sure I can trust the CIA. It wouldn't be the first time some agents meddle in dirty business, would it? Some people might still be in touch with him._

_So, here's the situation: we have criminals gathering around Grindelwald's heir, who happened to see me tonight. I'm sure he knew who I was, even though he didn't make any comment, but his eyes... He knew. I guess we'll see what happens next but if you receive this letter... Well, you know._

_I could run away, I could get in touch with Seraphina and ask for an extraction, but... I have to finish what I started. If I can, I'll try to gather some more intel, some hard proof for the CIA, maybe even names of people trying to double-cross us._

_Anyway, I beg you, Credence, I beg you to be careful. I don't have any reason to suspect that Tom might be after you but please, please, whatever happens in the next few days, don't go looking for me. Be careful._

_There's another reason why I'm sending this to you instead of the CIA. You deserve an apology for everything I've said the other night. I haven't stopped thinking about it. I can't bear to think those might be the last words I ever said to you. So, even if only on paper, I need to tell you that I love you, more than anything. When I'm asleep and dreaming, I see the both of us side by side, growing old together - well, me faster than you, of course. I like that dream. I think I would like to make it a reality. I guess we'll see how that turns out._

_So, I'm sorry for everything, Credence. I love you and I'm sorry I had to hurt you... I didn't do it gratuitously, even though that's no excuse. I thought that if you knew nothing about my plans and if I didn't seem to have anything worth protecting, the both of us would be fine and safe, even from the kind of guys I'd be meeting up with. I hadn't counted on Tom, though. I hope he doesn't remember you._

_Ask Tina for help if you need anything, you know you can trust her._

_With all my love,_

_Percival._

Credence barely noticed the tears that slowly rolled down his cheeks, not even when a few of them dripped on the letter he was still holding onto. _If you are reading this letter, I'm probably dead._ The words were nothing but a blur in front of his eyes, as the terrible meaning of that first sentence started to sink in. Tina was right to warn him, wasn't she? Percival was...

He could not believe it. He didn't want to. Perhaps they were holding him as a prisoner somewhere? If they had found out who he was, there was no way they wouldn't try to use him as leverage: Percival was the perfect person to trade for something but also the most knowledgeable agent out there, the perfect one to ask for information. Credence realised with a pang in his chest that his lover would never give any of it willingly, though.

He shuddered. If Tom was the head of the organisation, the CIA had better hurry up and investigate faster: three years ago, Tom had not hesitated to break the collarbone of a young law student in order to follow Grindelwald's orders. Now that he was his own master and had his hands on the director, though? Nothing would stop him from hurting Percival until he started to talk.

If he was still alive.

The young man pushed the thought away. He couldn't give up on his lover: if anyone knew how to survive, Percival was the one. Credence wasn't sure of his boyfriend's options and chances, though: if he wasn't dead - which he was _not_ \- he was certainly Tom's prisoner. How long would it take to find his hideout and rescue Percival?

Credence didn't have the slightest idea about that. Three years ago, the CIA had only found him because Grindelwald had set up a meeting place with them, in order to trade Credence for a way out of the States. He'd had something interesting to get out of this deal but in the current situation... What could possibly appeal to Riddle more than a CIA agent, and a good one at that? Credence was almost positive that the Agency would never receive a demand of ransom for Percival.

If the investigation team had to take the long way to their boss, interrogating and gathering intelligence from informants and forced to follow that long procedure that Credence didn't know well enough, months could very well pass before they heard about him at all.

He shuddered at the thought and blinked rapidly, trying to keep his tears at bay. Back with Grindelwald, Credence had suffered and been hurt, even though he was just an hostage who knew nothing about the CIA. Grindelwald had detained him less than a day... Percival had been missing, and probably prisoner, for five whole days. _He_ was important and knew a great deal about the CIA business but he also knew how to keep his mouth shut, so how long exactly would he resist? How badly hurt would he be when they finally found him?

There was still a little chance that Percival had left the safe house to hide and keep spying on Riddle from a distance... But Credence, although he wanted to believe in that possibility, had to be realistic. If Percival went into hiding in time, why had he not gotten in touch with the CIA yet? He had to know missing as many comms windows as he had would get everyone on their feet at the office... Besides, nothing in his letter said that he would hide, quite the opposite. His words made him sound resigned, almost already defeated.

But Credence had a chance to help, didn't he? The CIA didn't know anything about the content of this letter, because Percival didn't want to take risks and warn someone at the office who might be working for Riddle... But he trusted Credence to make the right choice regarding the people he would show this letter to. He could help.

The young man didn't dwell on it any longer: digging into his bag, Credence quickly grabbed his phone and dialled Tina's number. As if she had been waiting for him to call all along, she answered after the second ring.

"Credence!" she immediately exclaimed, "Are you all right? Is everything okay? What's going on?"

"Relax," he told her with a frown, "I'm not in trouble just because I call. Actually, I might even be useful. Could you come over?"

"I... Wait a second."

Tina probably covered the phone with her hand, for she shouted words that Credence didn't manage to catch to another person who was in the same room as her, then he heard her voice clearly again.

"Okay," she said, "I can be there in twenty minutes, Abernathy will take the phone calls for me. Just tell me one thing, are you sure that you're okay? What is this all about?"

"Not on the phone," Credence replied slowly, thinking that Percival would be proud of him for watching what he chose to divulge or not - the agent tended to be a bit paranoid sometimes. "But it is about him."

There. Cryptic but not too much. Percival would be _very_ proud.

"I'm coming," Tina said at once. "Don't open the door to anyone but me. I'll knock five times, wait two seconds, and knock once more. See you soon."

She hung up before he could agree and Credence was left to stare at his cell phone in wonder. He was not too sure to like the code Tina had just given him: it made him sound too much like one of her fellow agents from the CIA. And he was sure as hell not ready for that.

  


  


Monday 4th of November, 5:54pm

Tina looked tired when Credence opened the front door for her, after she had knocked the way they had discussed on the phone. The young man invited her inside but he didn't have the time to ask if she wanted a drink, for she spoke first.

"You look like you've been crying..." she started, before she bit her lip. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound... Well, rude. Are you okay?"

"As much as I can be," Credence answered with a soft and reassuring smile, although he didn't try to deny that he had shed tears earlier. "Come, I need to show you something."

The both of them sat in the living-room, just like they had on last Friday, except that tonight, Credence's heart was a bit calmer, appeased by the thought that he had a chance at helping his lover out.

"Here," he said as he handed the letter to Tina carefully, almost reverently. "I found it in the mail when I came back from my classes. It's from Percival."

The agent glanced at him in surprise before she quickly looked down at the letter in her hands and started to read, her face shadowed with concentration and concern. It took a mere few minutes before she heaved a deep sigh and folded the letter in half.

"Already?" Credence asked.

"Yes. Uh, well, I didn't read the last paragraphs," Tina admitted, sounding somewhat shy, "It looked... private."

Credence nodded, grateful for her thoughtfulness, and took back the letter, resisting the urge to cradle it against his chest.

"So..." he urged her on, "What do you think?"

"It sounds like he knew where he was headed," she whispered on a sad tone that had Credence's insides turn to ice, and she seemed to realise that he didn't want to hear that sort of things. "I'm sorry, I just... We are investigating, Credence, and we're doing our best, but we don't have many clues yet. There is no hint of fighting at the safe house so Percival had to leave either on his own or willingly, if someone came for him. He didn't leave any message there either..."

"But now we have his letter," Credence added.

"Yes," Tina agreed, "And now we know who we are looking for. That Tom... I'm so sorry. Three years ago, we looked for him, I swear we did. We blocked the airports all over the country, we checked the ID of every passenger, we kept an eye out in the train and subway stations... I just don't know how he got away."

"It's too late now," Credence said, "We can't change what is done. But what can we do now?"

"Find who might be working for him at the CIA, find the places he owns, find his headquarters, you name it," Tina sighed, "We couldn't find any of those so far and trust me, we looked, even without knowing who was leading the organisations. Picquery sent her best agents but we all came back empty-handed."

"How is that possible?" Credence asked with wide eyes.

"Blown covers," Tina groaned, closing her eyes as she rubbed her temples to chase a headache away. "We didn't understand how every single person we tried to sneak upon could see right through us. Now I get it: if Tom Riddle worked for the CIA back in the time, he must know quite a lot of field agents. He's the big boss so he doesn't roam the streets, unlike our informants, but he must have spread the word. I can't even tell that we are even: five minutes ago I didn't know that he was responsible for Percival's disappearance and beside him, no one among us knows what Tom looks like..."

She trailed off, losing herself in her thoughts, probably planning the CIA's next move. In front of her, Credence was staring at his hands, heart pounding in his ears. That... That wasn't true. There was someone, other than Percival, who knew exactly what Tom looked like. Someone who had gotten close enough to him to catch the mad glimmer in his eyes, to watch the mask of a young, quite handsome man slide and reveal the monster underneath, the beast who didn't bat an eyelid as he broke the bones of an innocent boy.

"I..." he croaked out, feeling like he was about to throw up as he struggled not to step back and forget his - stupid, stupid! - idea. "I can help. I... I can do this."

Tina looked at him as if he was crazy and truth to be told, Credence half-wanted to agree with her. He was not an agent. He didn't even work for the CIA!

"And what exactly do you think you can do?" Tina asked, sounding like she was bracing herself for the worst and trying to figure out how to let him down gently, with sensible arguments.

Unluckily for her, he did have his own good arguments.

"I know what Tom looks like," he explained. "And he can't expect me to work for the CIA after what happened, right? So, no one in his gang knows about me, which means that I could get close to them and find the information you need but can't get by yourself. I can help you, Tina, I can help Percival, I can..."

"Yes, well, speaking of him," Tina interrupted the young man, crossing her arms over her chest. "He would kill me if I accepted to let you run so many risks. I can't do that, Credence, you are not an agent, you don't know what you are getting into, you..."

"I do!" he exclaimed - and he really must be a fool, for insisting so much when Tina was giving every possible way out of this. "I've been in danger before, I know what it's like! The only difference is that back then, I didn't know what to do and I wasn't exactly willing to be part of this and be captured. Now though, I want to help. And if you prepare me and walk me through the process, I can do just that."

Tina didn't look convinced but she also seemed to be weighing his words, which was more than he expected.

"I'm not saying yes," she eventually groaned, although she was not saying no either. "Let me think about it, see what I can do to make sure you'll be safe - if I accept, that is. Think about it too, whether or not you're ready to do this, for real. I don't want it to be some sort of hero complex that gets you killed in the end. I'll come back tomorrow with another agent and if you have come to your decision, we'll talk about what we can do together."

Credence had to bite his tongue to refrain from pointing out that Percival didn't have the time to wait until the next day; he reckoned that Tina wouldn't like to hear _now_ that he was more than ready. He should at least give her the illusion that he had listened to her and pondered his decision properly.

"Fine," he relented. "How trustworthy is that other agent?"

"Abernathy?" she asked, before she answered with a shrug, "He's completely clean. Overzealous and crushing like a teenager on Percival, but we can trust him. I promise."

Credence nodded, although the fact that this man had a crush on his boyfriend didn't please him too much. Well, at least Abernathy would do anything to bring Percival back, wouldn't he?

"Okay, then," he whispered. "I'll think about it."

"Good. And if you change your mind," Tina hurriedly added, "it's perfectly understandable and no one will judge you for it. In fact, I'd prefer if you did. And remember: I haven't said yes yet."

"I know..."

"Of course you do," Tina said with a gentle smile, before she allowed herself to ruffle Credence's hair. "I have to go. Don't do anything stupid until tomorrow, you hear me?"

Tina only left him after he'd promised her that he would not run into the streets in the middle of the night to scream Percival's name and even then, she looked reluctant to walk away. He waved at her from the threshold as she climbed into her car and once she was gone, Credence tried very hard _not_ to think about his suggestion, Tina's order be damned. If he thought about it, he would chicken out - and he didn't want to.

Percival had not given up on him when Credence had fallen into Grindelwald's wicked hands... It was not a hero complex. He just had the ability to do something good, he could actually help this time, so he was not merely going to sit on his ass and do nothing.

Face set in a determined expression, Credence strode through the hall and climbed the stairs in a hurry; he didn't even halt before he entered the bedroom and caught sight of the frighteningly empty, large bed. If anything, the prospect of being able to sleep next to Percival again helped him to make up his mind: he was going to help, even against Tina's better judgement.

Grabbing the bed headboard with both hands, Credence pulled and pushed to the side, making the bed squeak a little as it skidded across the floor from a few feet, just enough so that the young man could reach the safe that had been hidden behind the bed.

When they started dating, Percival had been adamant that Credence learned to defend himself, just in case it would turn out to be necessary. Back then, his lover's worst fear had been to see Credence hurt again because of his job, so the young man had humoured him and taken up taekwondo at the university. Percival had also taught him how to fire a gun. _Don't use it if you don't need to_ , he'd said with worry and reluctance clear in his tone, _I wouldn't want you anywhere near to a gun again but just in case... It's better if you know how to use it._

Credence knew that Tina, even if she agreed to let him assist, would never allow him to carry a gun - a chance Percival kept one in the safe, for emergencies. He quickly entered the code and the safe opened with a gentle click. Beside the gun, that Credence highly suspected to be a Beretta since Percival loved those the most, there was a fair amount of banknotes and currencies from different countries, several passports with different identities but all of them with Percival's face on the pictures, and a little box that Credence accidentally knocked off as he took out the gun. Agent-like stealth was something he had yet to master.

With a sigh, Credence knelt to pick up the little box. It weighed almost nothing at all and the young man wondered, could it contain microphones? Spy ear buds, maybe? He knew that Percival used those sometimes, to keep in touch with the other agents out there... Credence guessed it would come in handy and even if it didn't, he'd rather be fully (or over) equipped than miss something at a bad time.

The young man opened the little box to check out exactly what it contained and as soon as he saw it, his breath caught in his throat as he realised what he was actually holding in his hand.

Resting on a velvety square of black fabric was a silver ring, thin and shining in front of his eyes, that suddenly filled with tears. Was it... Did Percival...?

Trembling, Credence slowly picked up the wedding ring and dropped the box, too focused on the silver band to be careful. Two letters had been carved on the inner side of the ring in elegant, intricate and long lines, entwined together like their fingers when Percival and Credence walked side by side in the street, and they were joined by a small symbol. _C & P_.

The tears finally spilled, silent and heavy, as Credence fell to his knees, clutching his fist to his chest as his fingers remained tightly closed around the ring Percival had meant to give him.

"I promise," he whispered around his sobs, "I will find you, Percival."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked this chapter! Don't forget to drop a little comment, it would mean the world and you'd be really helpful :) Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings! I'm finally back with the 4th chapter! I'm sorry it took so long, I finished writing my thesis only two days ago and I was exhausted. I'm actually really sick right now but I did my best to give you a good chapter, so I hope you will like it :)
> 
> For those of you who read the previous chapter when it came out and didn't reread it, just a little note: I changed Tom's last name from Jedusor to Riddle; Jedusor is the French version of Riddle and since I read the books when I was little and didn't know a single word of English, giving the French names is a reflex, even now. So, my apologies for that!

  


Tuesday 5th of November, 3:17pm

Credence had never been as nervous as he felt in this moment, waiting for Tina and the other agent she trusted to find Percival. He wasn't sure of what exactly would come out of this meeting, whether or not the CIA would agree to let him help to the best of his abilities and if they did, what sort of help he could provide.

The young man didn't doubt his determination - he knew that he would do everything he possibly could and Tina had better be aware of that as well - but it didn't change one plain, obvious fact: Credence was no agent. He didn't know his limits in that field, didn't know what he was able to do or not... He could fire a gun; aim well and hurt someone? Not so much, or at least he didn't think so. He didn't actually want to hurt anyone at all, his first purpose was to find and rescue his lover... Which he guessed would probably not go too smoothly, based on his previous experience.

Credence was so anxious that he jumped when someone knocked on the door but he calmed down quickly enough when he realised that it was no other than Tina, using the signal they had discussed the previous day to let him know that she was there - and not some potential threat. Good Lord, he was beginning to sound as paranoid as Percival.

The young man quickly made his way to the front door, unlocking it with febrile hands, and welcomed Tina with a nervous smile that she returned, although she seemed a bit more relaxed than him - or maybe she was just better at hiding her nervousness. After all, dealing with stressful situations was part of her job, right?

"Hi, Credence," Tina said as she stepped inside, taking a look around as if she expected someone to jump out of a secret corner to attack them. "Let me introduce you to Agent Abernathy..."

Credence watched warily as a man whom he didn't know yet followed Tina inside and closed the door behind him, before he turned around to face their host.

"Good afternoon," he greeted with an air of importance that Credence wasn't too sure to like, extending his hand to shake the boy's. "I take it you are Credence Barebone?"

Credence nodded but couldn't help himself: that man looked at him in a scornful way that irked him, maybe because he was jealous of his relationship with Percival - had Tina not said something about Abernathy's immense crush on his boss? - so he accepted the agent's handshake and said:

"That's right: I'm Credence, Percival's boyfriend."

Ah, touché! Abernathy now looked like he had swallowed a whole lemon, which pleased the younger man very, very much. He didn't even feel guilty or remorseful for his behaviour: after all, there he was, a young law student willing to put himself in danger to save not only his lover but also the boss that agents like Abernathy had not managed to rescue yet, so the least he could do was to show him some respect instead of staring at him like one would a cockroach in a dirty toilet stall.

Tina seemed to feel the tension and understand the source of it, for she suggested on a slightly forced light tone:

"Perhaps we should move to your living-room, Credence? We would be more comfortable to discuss our business."

"Right," the young man agreed, adverting his eyes from Abernathy's red face. "This way."

He led them further inside his house and gestured for them to sit on the couch, while he carefully perched himself on the small table in front of it. He looked up at the two agents and suddenly, the reality of what he was getting himself into hit him: their presence itself meant that their big boss had agreed to let him partake in Percival's rescue. In turn, that implied danger and trouble, everything he had sworn to his lover that he would try to avoid like the plague. Well... What was the saying? Better ask for forgiveness than permission? There was no turning back now.

"So..." he started hesitantly, glancing between Tina and Abernathy, wondering who would break the big news to him.

Unsurprisingly, Tina did. She didn't seem to like what she was saying but once again, she kept her voice light and as cheerful as possible, probably not to freak him out, which Credence appreciated.

"Picquery said yes," she told him. "She actually thinks that this is a good idea, that it might work... And rest assured, she won't put you through this without protection. She also apologises for involving you in this sort of situation again."

"Well," Credence mumbled, trying and failing to go for a merry expression, "At least I suggested it this time, instead of being thrown in the middle of it."

Tina's lips curled into a faint smile that quickly faded.

"Credence," she said gently but a bit urgently as well, "You can still change your mind if you want to. We will find another way, we..."

"We have already tried the other ways, Goldstein," Abernathy interrupted her, although not unkindly, and he looked at Credence. "This is the only chance we have left and even so, it's a very long shot. You have to be sure about this, not just try and then realise it's too much. You're not an agent, you're not even trained like our newbie's are and we don't have time to get you ready: we haven't heard of Mr. Graves for a week and if we don't do something now, it will be too late. Perhaps it already is."

Credence glared at the other man, angry at him for reminding him of the situation. As if he needed this! Of course he knew the risks, of course he knew that Percival had been missing for too long already - every night he spent alone in their bed was one more night of beatings, or worse, for Percival.

"I'm going to do this," he declared firmly and to his surprise, Abernathy actually flashed him a quick, tiny smile. "When do I start, what do I have to do?"

"Tonight," Tina answered, resigning herself to accept Credence's decision. "We're running out of time, we can't wait any longer than we already have."

Tonight... It seemed both too soon and too late, the young man thought as he felt his stomach getting all tied up in knots: if he could, Credence would be running toward Tom Riddle right now and he would shake him until he blurted out where he was keeping Percival - but at the same time, he wished he could delay the inevitable. Abernathy was right, he was _not_ ready. He had no idea where to start and even though he still didn't doubt that he had made the right choice, he was glad that he wouldn't be completely alone in this... So, he bravely nodded at Tina and waited for instructions.

"We will take you to the bar where Percival was last seen," she explained. "One of our informants witnessed him entering but according to her, he never got out. Tonight, your job will be to find out whom he met that day, what they talked about, everything you can."

"All right..." Credence drawled, a bit hesitant. "But... That's it? I can't just walk in and ask around!"

"Of course not!" Abernathy scoffed. "You can't do or say anything suspicious to anyone or you'll be busted in seconds. Mister Graves was undercover and passing as a drug smuggler, which you will be as well. You do know what a drug smuggler is, right?"

"Abernathy," Tina seethed, "Be nice."

"Fine," the agent relented, although he didn't sound much kinder, "Very well, here's what going to happen: as a drug smuggler, you will enter that shady bar and act like you are waiting for someone. Not a waiting-for-my-date sort of acting, more like waiting-for-the-suspicious-ex-con-who-will-buy-my-drugs. All right?"

Credence blinked but didn't answer. He didn't think that Abernathy truly expected a reaction anyway: he would rather be pissed if the young man interrupted him.

"Then," Abernathy added, satisfied with Credence's silence, "after a while of proper waiting where you will actually try to remember the face of every person in that bar to give us intel, you will walk up to the barman and tell him you're waiting for someone who obviously forgot you, so you will describe that person and ask where you can find them. Barmen know that sort of thing."

That... made very little sense to Credence. If he was _pretending_ to wait for someone, how could he describe that fake person? How would asking about them be useful in anything? When he voiced his incomprehension, Abernathy made a low noise of frustration in his throat and Tina glared at her fellow agent.

"You can't blame him for not following your thoughts," she pointed out with a roll of her eyes, before she addressed her young friend. "Credence, you will ask about Percival, without actually saying his name. You must ask for the drug smuggler, not the CIA's best man. That's the only... predictable part of your mission. After that, you will have to react as accurately as possible and we won't be able to help you out much."

"I... I don't understand..."

"We don't know what happened to Percival," Tina explained with a sigh, "So if the barman agrees to give you some information, it could go any way: maybe he'll lead you somewhere or give you a name, maybe even call someone to take care of you - which might be a good or a very bad thing."

"You... You said," Credence stammered, "You said you weren't letting me in this without protection!"

"I did," Tina nodded, "That's true, we will be there... at a distance. We will monitor you from afar and have a team ready to intervene if you need help, but if they take you somewhere... We might need time to reassess the situation and plan our actions."

Credence frowned: Tina wouldn't say it but despite her reassurances, if the mission went south, he should consider that he was on his own. Was it always like that for the agents? Willingly going into deep trouble or dangerous situations while knowing that their colleagues or administration wouldn't move a finger to help them? He still remembered how, three years ago, the whole CIA had turned on Percival and tried to put him down without stopping to hear what he had to say.

That trail of thoughts didn't really help him to swallow the lump of nervousness in his throat. He now realised that he could totally die if he chose to go forth with this - Tina had warned him though - but oddly, he didn't completely freak out after that epiphany. If he did die... He would die trying to save the man he loved. There were worst ways to go, right?

  


  


Tuesday 5th of November, 10:39pm

Credence was not shaking. Certainly not. Nor was he afraid, now that would be stupid. What was there to be scared of? Yes, all right, so maybe he was alone in a dark alley in the middle of a neighbourhood he would have preferred to avoid altogether but he didn't have a choice, did he? He just had to wait until Tina and Abernathy were in position and then he would leave this nasty-smelling corner of New York to go into... a questionable establishment where he would certainly meet plenty of murderers and serial killers and drug smugglers and overall bad people and he was so not ready to...

"Credence?"

The young man jumped at the sound of Tina's scratchy voice resounding in the spy ear bud located near his eardrum, which he had nearly forgotten, too lost in his pacing. That wouldn't do: if she spoke to him while he was inside the bar and if he had that kind of strong reaction, he wouldn't last long.

"Yes?" he eventually squeaked, quickly growing mortified at his poor intonation.

"We are all set," Tina merely said, without pointing out his obvious scare, which the boy appreciated. "Proceed."

Credence nodded, although the agent couldn't see it, and swallowed as he took a few steps forward to get out of the alley and into a larger street, flanked by dark houses with broken windows. The only light, dim, came from the bar down the street that he was heading for, hoping with his fingers crossed that he would manage not only to get in but also and most importantly, to get out - alive, preferably. Good Lord. This, this whole situation, was way less thrilling than the action movies let on.

A meagre comfort came from Percival's Beretta that he had slipped under his jacket, unbeknownst to Tina who would flip if she knew, but also from the minivan parked a few meters away from the bar, in which he knew Tina and Abernathy (as well as, apparently, an intervention team just in case) were sitting in front of a computer, following his movements on the screen thanks to the tiny tracker inside the lining of his jacket and listening to every word that would be said to him through the ear bud that would also enable them to talk to him. Again, just in case... In case something - anything, really - happened and they had to tell him to get out of there quickly.

Credence prayed that nothing bad would happen. He sometimes had a hard time synchronising his arms and legs even under normal circumstances, so he wasn't too eager to find out what would happen if he had to hurry and run for his life. Hopefully, the intervention team was better than him.

The young man splayed his hand across his chest, where his open jacket enabled him to touch the soft fabric of his shirt and, underneath, hanging on a silver chain, the ring Percival had meant to offer him once he would propose. The light weight resting near his heart was comforting and it gave him enough strength to pull the door of the Blind Pig.

Raucous laughter and the smell of strong alcohol welcomed him as he stepped inside the bar, nothing like the peaceful coffee shops where Percival and he often grabbed their breakfast on their respective way to work and school. Trying to think back to the tips Tina and Abernathy had spent the afternoon giving to him, he squared his shoulders and stood as straight as he could, eyeing his surroundings with as much annoyance as he could muster, as if this was nothing unusual at all. He personally thought he looked like a deer caught in headlights, though.

A few heads turned as he slowly (too slowly?) made his way to a free table and sat on a creaky wooden chair but the other patrons soon came back to their conversations and didn't pay much attention to him. Credence held back a sigh of relief at that but he made a show of looking around, pretending to search someone while, in fact, he was checking all possible exits. He almost laughed at that: Percival did this all the time without meaning to, just out of habit. For a second, Credence wondered whether his boyfriend would be proud of him or horrified that the CIA had engraved itself in his life so deeply.

Credence looked around for a while longer, this time watching the patrons laugh and gulp down alcohol at an alarming pace, until one of them actually fell off his chair, which prompted more laughter and a new round of drinks. The young man let a few more minutes pass by, starting to sweat as he wondered whether he had waited long enough or not, then he made his decision and rose to his feet.

Reaching the counter was easy. The next part would probably not go that smoothly, but as Newt said, worrying meant suffering twice. He would simply have to roll with it, whatever _it_ may bring.

The man behind the counter was a short fellow, with very little hair at the top of his skull and frankly not trust-inspiring, what with the way he scoffed at Credence as his dark eyes narrowed at him.

"Drink?" he groaned.

"Y... Yes," Credence stammered, taken aback by the sudden question, which he should probably have expected as he came up to the barman. "Uh, whiskey."

he man grabbed a glass and a bottle in his strangely deformed fingers, bumpy and wry, as if they had been broken in several places, several times. He poured the amber drink in the glass, of which Credence doubted the cleanness, and slid it toward him. The young man quickly dug in his pocket to grab a five-dollar bill and made to lay it across the counter, but the barman snatched it away from his hand. Credence scowled at that but didn't comment, instead choosing to glance at his drink, and he hesitated. He didn't like alcohol. He never drank anything, not even a colourful cocktail, so strong whiskey like this? This had been a very bad idea. But then again, ordering a lemonade in a place like this would have earned him a funny look - or two.

"Ain't much of a drinker, eh?" the barman asked with a smirk when he noticed the boy's hesitation to raise his glass.

Startled, Credence looked at him with wide eyes then spluttered to collect himself and act as if nothing in this situation was actually surprising.

"It's not that," he answered with a frown. "I like, I mean, I love whiskey. I'm just... I'm waiting for someone."

"Sure thing, darling," the barman said with a smirk that only grew and Credence felt the sudden urge to slap him - or stomp on his already bent fingers.

"Actually," the young man said before he could chicken out, "He seems to be late and I'm not sure he'll show at this time. I know he's been here before though, so maybe you know him and can tell me where to find him at this hour?"

"In need of information?" the barman asked with, surprisingly, a genuine smile. "You're lucky, Gnarlak is the right person for that."

"Gnarlak?" Credence repeated, a bit unsure.

"Standing right before you as we speak, darling," the barman, Gnarlak as it seemed, answered as he stabbed two wry thumbs at his own chest.

"Oh, right. Well... I'm looking for a man, about this tall," Credence started, waving a hand at the level of his shoulders, careful with his words so that he wouldn't start to wax poetics about Percival's good looks. "Silver and dark hair, thick eyebrows? He looks quite handsome too. And he might be interested in what I have to sell."

With that, Credence took a tiny bag of white powder out of his pocket, shaking it lightly in front of Gnarlak's long nose. He had felt nearly sick when Abernathy had thrown a few of these bags at him earlier in the afternoon, saying that those were samples directly taken out of the CIA's stock of evidence gathered along the years. He could see the use in them, though.

"Oh, honey," Gnarlak cackled, head thrown back in mirth, "Gnarlak doesn't give out information like that, you know?"

Credence mentally thanked Tina for explaining to him how some people actually asked to be paid to reveal a fact that you badly wanted to know while they had no use for it themselves, otherwise it would have taken him a long time to understand what the barman meant.

Grumbling a little, the young man dug in his pocket again, this time for a twenty, and reluctantly slid it over to Gnarlak - then a second one, because apparently Gnarlak was playing hard to get.

"The man you're looking for," the barman finally said with a victorious smile as he carefully placed the bills inside his grim waistcoat, "You should forget everything about selling to him. Someone seemed to think he was stepping in a territory that was not his own and he made sure that your man understood that pretty clearly."

Credence's heart missed a beat. He could also distinctly hear a small gasp in his left ear and he knew it had to come from Tina.

"What do you mean?" he asked Gnarlak with tendrils of dread wrapped around his heart.

"Well..." the barman snickered, "A blond man came for Tall, Dark and Handsome one night, didn't look too happy. They had a little chat and they went out through the back door, both looking ready for a fight. What happened after that, I have no idea. My patrons' business is theirs alone."

Credence felt oddly disappointed. Well, he was glad that Gnarlak hadn't mentioned anything about harsh beatings or guns being pulled out, so there was that. However, his explanation didn't really help the CIA's investigation: they still had no idea of what had happened to Percival, except that he had been taken away. By whom, though? Where? To what end? This neighbourhood was shady enough to kill a man in front of the Blind Pig and not be too harassed about it, so if they had wanted to kill Percival, they would have done it right there and then. That meant that he had been taken somewhere else to be interrogated, like the CIA feared, and it had been days. They still had no mean to know if he was still alive after the torture he had certainly suffered, unless...

"That blond man," Credence said carefully, "Do you know where I can find him? I still need to sell my stuff, or my boss won't be too happy with me. If I could have a word with him, maybe..."

"Now, now, darling," Gnarlak chided him, "This ain't information you're asking for. This is playing messenger. I can do that too but for the right..."

"Right price, I guess?" Credence finished for him, not too happy as he took out a few more bills - it was the CIA's dirty money and not his own, but still.

"Now we're talking!" Gnarlak exclaimed brightly, yet not too loudly so that the other patrons couldn't hear their conversation. "I'll get in touch with Blondie, be back here tomorrow night at eleven: if he wants to have a chat with you, he'll be there."

Credence nodded, a shy _thank you_ on the tip of his tongue, but he eventually decided to swallow it: after all, he had _paid_ Gnarlak for his services. Thus, the young man didn't say anything but he raised his glass and, closing his eyes to gather up his courage, drank the whiskey in two long gulps... Which he immediately regretted as the liquid fire rolled down his throat and brought tears to his eyes. With a small, hoarse cough that made Gnarlak howl in laughter, Credence gave out a weak noise that he hoped sounded like _goodbye_ , and he turned on his heels to leave the Blind Pig.

  


  


Wednesday 6th of November, 00:04am

Credence was putting his pyjamas on after a long shower when Tina knocked on his front door, Abernathy in tow. The agents had discreetly congratulated him through the ear bud when he had came out of the Blind Pig but they had remained silent as he went back home: they had planned earlier that day on following him from afar without actually initiating any sort of contact, for fear that Credence might be trailed by someone from the bar. They could not risk being seen together or that would completely blow up his cover.

Instead, they made sure that no one but them was following the young man and once they were certain that it was safe to do so, Tina and Abernathy walked in for a quick debriefing.

"You did very well, Credence, considering," Tina said, which he interpreted as praise.

And frankly? He thought so too. Sure, he had made a fool of himself at least once in front of Gnarlak but this could have gone way, way worse. But he didn't stumble and hit his head, didn't anger anyone at the bar, didn't break down and cry, didn't pull out his gun like a mad man to ask where they kept Percival. This was a success.

"So you are going back tomorrow night," Abernathy added lightly, sort of ruining Credence's enthusiasm. "That's great, your meeting with that man will certainly give good results. If you're lucky, tomorrow might be the last day you go out as an agent..."

"Really?" Credence asked with a frown.

"Really," Tina confirmed with a relieved smile, "Once we have the blond man's name and a clear shot of his face, we can take it from there: follow him, find his associates, subordinates, the person he works for, everything. You won't have to go out there anymore."

The thought should have comforted Credence. Really, he should have felt overwhelmed with relief from the fact that his extracurricular activities would soon come to an end. And yet... In a week, the CIA had found nothing at all while in one hour only, he had gotten a good lead on Percival's disappearance. So... He wouldn't say that he was better than the CIA but... Maybe he had better chances at finding Percival than they had.

"All right," he said quietly, "That's... That's good."

He was aware that Tina would kill him on the spot if she knew that he didn't want to stop what he was doing so soon, as she had clearly been reluctant to involve him at all; thus, he kept quiet on the topic, only nodding to show that he understood and agreed with her and Abernathy. He would tell them the next day, after his meeting with the mysterious blond man who had taken Percival away...

If he was still alive afterwards, of course.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you think about it :) I'm pretty sure it would make me feel better ;) Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry about the long wait for this chapter... I got caught up between the show Shadowhunters, my thesis (which I aced and am so proud of), surgery I had to undergo and I also got a job two weeks ago as a teacher, which means tons of lessons to prepare. I hope you can forgive the delayed update and that you will like it! :)

  


Wednesday 6th of November, 10:44pm

Being a criminal was scary. Credence didn't understand how some people could do this job, _be_ this, when it was so nerve-wracking. What sick need of adrenaline urged them to risk their life at every second? Why had Percival ever decided to do this damn job? That was a question the young man would carefully keep in a corner of his mind, in order to ask his lover once they would be reunited...

He would also make sure to slip in a word or two about Percival's retirement: the fact that this job was dangerous should have hit Credence three years prior but maybe it hadn't, because he had been the victim in that situation. _He_ had been in danger, while Percival and the few friends who had remained loyal to him were merely doing their job. A job they had actually signed up for, even though it didn't exactly include saving clueless boys. Afterwards, Percival had been promoted and he had gone on less and less missions, never too life-threatening, and the young man had thought that his lover would be okay.

Now though, Credence had realised exactly how bad it could get for the field agents. He had known of course, but there was a difference between knowing, on a theoretical level only, and experiencing it like he was right there and then.

Comforted in his weird life choices by Tina and Abernathy who were sitting in the van some distance away from the Blind Pig, like the other night, Credence entered the bar. Unlike the previous day, he did not make a show of looking around: he headed straight to the counter where Gnarlak was cleaning a glass and saw the odd man smirk when he caught sight of him.

"You're back," he greeted, raising his eyebrows in genuine surprise, "You want a whiskey? Or maybe a lemonade?"

He was clearly making fun of Credence, which Abernathy apparently did as well, if the light snort in his ear was anything to go by. The young man fought the urge to roll his eyes or snap at Abernathy directly, which would have been a huge mistake, and merely frowned at Gnarlak.

"Thanks," he quietly said, "I'm good. Uh, about our deal..."

"You're so impatient, darling," the barman laughed. "Fine, as you want. Lucius will be there soon, just go sit and wait. Won't be long."

"Lucius?" Credence repeated, partly for Tina, partly to prompt Gnarlak to give some more information.

"Yeah, Lucius," the other man confirmed, before he frowned, "What, you got a problem with the name?"

"N... No," Credence quickly stammered, making Gnarlak's smirk come back with full force in the process, "I'm just... wondering? I was supposed to sell to P... people my boss know and I don't think he knows any Lucius."

The seconds before he heard Gnarlak's answer seemed awfully long to Credence. Had the barman noticed his almost slip, the way he had nearly said Percival's name out of habit? The young man prayed that he had not blown this up, or he could wave goodbye to his lover's location and to every hope he'd entertained to rescue him.

Gnarlak stared at him in silence for a little while and Credence was starting to sweat, holding his breath and waiting for Tina to deem it too dangerous to go on, when the barman extended his hand. This time, Credence rolled his eyes in annoyance and a few twenties later, the little man was grinning.

"Lucius is part of Riddle's not-so-little little gang," he explained. "Your boss better know them, they're getting big in New York."

Credence's heart jumped in his chest, apprehension mixing with excitement: he was on the right path! If Lucius was with Tom Riddle, then for sure he could gather some useful intel - if he didn't get busted and killed on the spot - and finally help Percival.

"Oh, yeah, right," Credence mumbled, looking down at his hands, hoping that his fake shame at his own cluelessness would fool the barman. "Hard to miss them."

"You don't say," Gnarlak drawled, "Now, go and sit. And by the way, it's rude not to order when you walk in a bar. So, drink?"

"Daiquiri," Credence blurted out.

It was Queenie's favourite cocktail and the first one that had come to his mind, for an obscure reason - he had never tasted it but it looked far more pleasant than the glass of whiskey he'd had the misfortune to swallow during his previous evening at the Blind Pig. He would rather trust his friend and go for that bright cocktail - and pray that he wouldn't die from too much alcohol in his system.

His drink came fast but Gnarlak wasn't the one to bring it to Credence's little table. Instead of the barman, the person who gave him his drink and then took a seat in front of him was a tall man, carrying himself with an air of superiority and an aura of danger that did nothing to put Credence at ease. Blondie, as per Gnarlak's moniker, had indeed blond hair, so clear that it looked nearly platinum, and gathered in a low ponytail. His grey eyes locked with the younger man's and Credence tried not to flinch nor look away.

"Y... You," the student stammered, "Are you... Lucius?"

Through his ear bud, he could guess that Tina's silence was tense, wary, and he knew that she and her team were frantically searching through their files for a Lucius, trying to dig some dirt on him, to see whether he was already known as a criminal or rather new in this scene. Judging by the shivers running down his spine under the man's piercing gaze, Credence would go for the former.

"I am," Lucius answered, "And you are?"

 _Don't give him your real name_ , Percival's voice said in his mind.

"Cre... Craig," the younger man told the blond nervously.

Lucius smiled but Credence couldn't tell whether it was genuine or not. The other man didn't say anything though, so perhaps he would be all right, but the silence as Lucius stared at him up and down was way too heavy on his nerves and he grabbed his cocktail to keep his hands busy. His first sip burned down his throat but he forced himself to take one more gulp, praying that he would not get drunk on this stupid daiquiri - it wasn't even good, Queenie had betrayed him - and he coughed a little.

That, to Credence's utter mortification, brought a smirk to Lucius' face and he finally started talking:

"Well, you're not a cop," he decided with a light nod, as if he was agreeing with himself.

"A cop?" Credence faintly repeated, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched in his nervousness.

"Bluff," Tina quickly whispered in his ear, urgency clear in her tone, "Pretend to be offended!"

"Really?" the young man huffed, both to his friend and to Lucius' benefit, before he played along, "Do I look like a cop to you?"

Lucius snickered and downed his own drink, a glass of amber liquid that looked like the whiskey Credence had tried the previous night.

"You don't," Lucius agreed pleasantly, "I apologise for being so wary but Gnarlak said that you seemed suspicious. But it's obvious you're not a cop, they are usually pretty convincing: cops don't stutter when they give their name - fake names, of course. They are trained to give it without thinking twice."

Credence nodded, a bit dumbly, at that little speech. Was he... Was he safe? Was Lucius honest in his words, did he really believe Credence? Could it be that he got lucky, for once? Or was the other man merely playing with him, to lull him into a false sense of security?

He wasn't freaking out, not at all. He was just... Fine, he was freaking out. He didn't know what to say, what to tell or not tell Lucius, because what if he made the wrong choices? The slightest of weird comments could make this whole affair take a turn for the worse, so how was he supposed to decide on his course of action?

It didn't help that Tina remained silent, making him feel like he was well and truly on his own in this nasty business. The CIA had better not blame him on any of the choices he would make if they turned out to be bad ones: it was their fault if they were in this situation in the first place, wasn't it?

"Besides," Lucius added offhandedly, "You're never careful enough. A week ago, some guy tried to play us... We're still not done with him. So I warn you: don't do anything stupid, boy, unless you want to suffer."

Credence shook his head, not even trying to pretend that this didn't scare him because it did, very much so. And yet, with fear, Lucius' words had kindled hope in his heart: he didn't doubt that the guy Blondie was talking about was Percival, which meant that... His lover was alive. That, alone, was such a relief that Credence could have cried tears of joy right there and then if it had been allowed. The second part was not so bright though, since Lucius had implied that Tom's crew had and still put Percival through a rough treatment.

He was scared to know exactly how much his boyfriend was suffering, both physically and mentally. Credence knew that the agents were trained of course, that they were used to pain and even had a high tolerance level but... What about emotional hurt? It had been a week but Percival was certainly disoriented, perhaps he didn't know what day it was or maybe he had even lost his purchase on reality; in his mind, it could seem like much more than a week. In this fragile condition, it would be extremely easy to undermine him: a few words here and there would suffice, spiteful comments about how no one was looking for him or, if someone was, that they would never find him. If those hurtful words were heard enough times, Percival's every hope could be destroyed. Destroyed by the lies of people who kept torturing him and toying with his mind.

"I don't plan on doing anything stupid," Credence eventually mumbled, looking down at his half-empty daiquiri. "I just want to sell."

"Ah yes, Gnarlak mentioned that," Lucius answered, "What exactly do you have in store?"

Credence took the drugs he had shown the barman the previous night out of his pocket and handed the tiny bag over to Lucius.

"My boss wants to starts his business in New York," he explained slowly, trying not to forget any part of what he had discussed with Tina and Abernathy. "He'd like to sell to someone with enough power in the underground affairs to make it a successful deal. We sell to you, you sell to... whomever it is that you sell this stuff to, and you get to take a commission on the sales."

Lucius eyed him in silence, then stared at the small bag of powder in his hands.

"We already have our suppliers," he finally said, "So what makes you think that we should make a deal?"

"Well," Credence started hesitantly, as they had not discussed this and he had no idea of what could appeal to a drug smuggler, "As I said, my boss..."

"Yes, your boss," Lucius interrupted him, "Speaking of which, who is he?"

Oh crap. He couldn't say Picquery now, could he? She wasn't even his boss, _per se_.

"Carreira," Tina whispered in his ear - which, thank every deity in the world! Credence had been about to faint.

"Carreira," he repeated dutifully, as he had no idea who that guy - guy? woman? - was.

"From Texas," Tina added.

"From Texas?" Credence tried, hoping that Lucius would recognise the name.

"I know who Carreira is," the blond man snapped, before his voice turned sugary, "Well, the possibility of making a deal with him is not one that gets easily ignored, does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Credence agreed, although he had no idea what Lucius was talking about - who exactly was this Carreira he was supposed to work for?

It seemed like Tina had decided to make him pretend to work for a very bad, very dangerous person. He wasn't too sure to like it.

"What does Carreira offer, exactly?" Lucius asked, now sounding very professional and interested.

"Lie," Tina urged him on, "Make stuff up and make it interesting!"

Interesting. Right. But what could possibly be interesting for a gangster? It was not like Credence had a lot of experience in that field and Percival had never told him much about his own missions...

"That... That one is a free sample," he said, gesturing to the drugs in Lucius' hands, "So you can make up your mind. If you accept the deal, the next delivery will cost you but, uh... The price will be very interesting, certainly better than what your usual suppliers ask for."

"Tell him about the quality of the product," Tina added, "Tell him it's not cut with shit."

"The drugs are also very fine," he squeaked, before he coughed a little to clear his throat, "Not cut with sh... shit."

A smile made its way onto the blond man's lips, oddly soft and pleased, but that didn't reassure Credence in the least. If anything, Lucius looked like a cat who had caught a mouse - but whether he was the mouse or not, the young man didn't know.

"You are an odd one, Craig, but you do know the words that work."

Credence waited, even more nervous than before, and hoped that Lucius would not follow these encouraging words with a _but_.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to make a call," the man apologised, standing up slowly, almost elegantly, "Don't go anywhere, I'll give you an answer shortly."

"Of course," Credence mumbled.

As soon as Lucius was out of sight, the young man let out a breath of relief that he had been holding in since the beginning of their conversation and he made the not-so smart decision to finish his daiquiri in two long gulps. He nearly choked when Tina started to talk to him, though.

"Credence?" she called softly, even though he couldn't answer, "You did very well. Hang on there and keep it up, I think he'll take the bait. If all goes well, thank him and tell him you can't wait to work with him on a regular basis, then go back home. Make a big detour if you can and we'll meet you there."

Credence closed his eyes for a few seconds, exhaustion overwhelming him all of a sudden. The thought of going back home was appealing, sure, but the fact that Percival wouldn't be there to welcome him weighted heavily on his heart. He had to be patient, he knew that, but the more he and the CIA waited, the more hurt Percival became. It was a long and slow way to his rescue and sadly, they didn't have any other choice than wait and hope that Percival would resist a bit longer.

When Lucius came back, Credence straightened up on his chair and observed him, trying to decipher his posture and attitude as if it would give him the slightest information regarding his fate. It did not. The man remained silent for a few seconds and cold sweat started to run down Credence's back. What if Tina was wrong? What if Lucius had seen through his act, what if he had called Tom Riddle to make sure that he could kill him?

"My boss is very interested in your proposition," Blondie finally said, which made Credence deflate like a pierced balloon, "But we have a counter-offer to make."

A... counter-offer?

"What kind of offer?" Credence asked, uncertainty clear on his face.

"Join us," Lucius simply said.

A weak, spluttered _what?_ reached Credence's ear but he tried to tune it out, in order to focus on what the other man had just said. _Join us_.

"W... What do you mean?" he uttered in shock.

"It's simple, really," Lucius explained with this sugary tone that Credence was quickly growing to dislike, "My boss wants you to work for us. Forget Carreira, the bastard is old and you won't get much of a career with him. We need young men like you in our ranks, you look so innocent that even a cop would buy drugs from you. As I said, we need this kind of people. We need _you_. So, what do you say?"

Stunned, Credence could only stare at Lucius without saying anything, mind running way too fast as he thought about it, purposefully ignoring Tina who was nearly screaming in his ear - and judging by the muffled sounds he managed to catch, Abernathy was agreeing with her.

"You can't, Credence!" she exclaimed, "This is way too dangerous, I can't even... Tell him no, tell him you're loyal to Carreira, make up some bullshit about him having adopted you for all I care, but tell him no! Get out of there, this is getting out of control! I told you Percival would kill me if you got in too deep!"

She was right, of course, but... He was doing this for Percival. Percival, who was alone and beaten up, hurting more and more with each ticking second. Credence had once been on the other end of a gun and Percival, who was not even his boyfriend yet at the time, had jumped in without an hint of hesitation. The least he could do was returning the favour, in what little ways he could.

Lifting his head, Credence locked eyes with Lucius, mouth set in a thin and severe line.

"Yes," he said in a breath.

  


  


Thursday 7th of November, 00:57pm

"You are crazy!" Tina yelled as soon as Credence opened the door to let her in, along with a fuming Abernathy. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I thought about what would be best for Percival," the young man answered defensively.

He had known that Tina would have strong opinions about this but he hadn't realised... He hadn't realised that she would eat him alive once they would all go back to his and Percival's house.

"That damn hero complex!" she shouted, raising her hands in the air, "I knew this was a bad idea, I should never have let you get involved in this!"

"Can't you see that this is the only way?" Credence shot back.

"It isn't! We saw Lucius leave the Blind Pig, we ran a facial recognition, we'll have results soon and..."

"You don't have them yet?" Credence asked, genuinely curious, "I thought this would take less time than that..."

Tina blinked and an awkward silence settled between the three of them, that Abernathy eventually broke:

"The facial recognition didn't work," the agent admitted, which earned him a glare from Tina. "We have nothing on him, we don't even know Blondie's last name."

"So, you see that I made the right call," Credence argued stubbornly, "I will have a direct access to Tom Riddle and I'll be able to give you the information you need. And I'll get Percival back."

"If you don't get yourself killed!" Tina snapped.

"I won't."

"You don't know that! For God's sake, Credence, you are a law student, not James Bond! Getting information in a dirty bar is one thing but roaming the streets with this sort of people is another and we can't follow you around to protect you! What are you going to do if they figure out that you are not who you say you are, _Craig_?"

Credence remained silent for a few seconds, debating whether or not he should tell the agents about the gun he had taken in Percival's safe. Maybe it would comfort Tina a little? Surely she wouldn't seize the weapon and keep him from using it, when it was the only thing that could save his life?

"I have this to help, just in case," he finally mumbled, taking off his jacket to show them the Beretta that his boyfriend loved so much.

A heavy silence welcomed his words, until Abernathy chuckled:

"Well, you have balls, that much is obvious."

His laughter died abruptly when Tina elbowed him in the ribs. She looked pale, worried and pissed at the same time, and she heaved a deep sigh.

"Percival is going to kill me when he hears about it," she complained. "Try not to accidentally shoot yourself."

Credence smiled at her words: she had said _when_ , not _if_ , even though she had made it clear before that Percival could very well be dead. Did it mean that she believed in him, that she believed he could bring him back? Maybe not on his own, of course, but if he could give the necessary intel to find Riddle's hideout... This would be over, for good.

Neither of the agents dared to say it to his face but he knew what Tina and Abernathy were thinking: even if they found Percival, alive, he wouldn't be the same. Captivity and torture could break a man, even one as strong as his lover, but Credence didn't and would never care about that. He loved Percival with his whole heart and if he was meant to pick up the shattered pieces of him to put him back together, no matter the hardships, he would be there.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Don't forget to drop a comment, it would mean the world <3 Until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! As promised, this chapter has come way quicker than the last one! It is a bit different, both in length and story-wise, but I hope you will like it :)

  


Unknown day, unknown time

The room - basement? - he had been thrown in smelled like rotten cabbage. That, and the even worse smell of sweat, piss and blood mixed together to create an atmosphere of fear and pain. It wasn't his first time experiencing this kind of situation, his brief stay in a Russian prison unofficially controlled by ex-members of the KGB during one of his first missions ever could prove that, but Percival couldn't exactly say that he was thrilled. To be brutally honest, it sucked and he was not dealing with it the way a proper agent should have.

Percival was tired - exhausted, whispered his mind, unwilling to sugar-coat it - and his whole body ached after hours of beatings or more imaginative torture. At least one of his ribs was broken, judging by the painful breaths he managed to take; blood had dried around his nose and on his split lips, his left eye was swollen shut and his wrists hurt from the shackles that restricted his movements and kept him chained to the wall, arms raised above his head. He couldn't feel his fingertips. His shoulders and his neck ached.

Twice a day, they came to untie him and allowed him to stand and stretch for a few seconds before they pushed him toward the chamber pot in a corner of the dark room. They hadn't fed him nor given him anything to drink during the first two days, or at least what he thought were two days, based on the grumblings of his stomach that usually echoed around the time for lunch and dinner, and even though he had endured worse in the past, these two days or so had been enough to weaken him. After that, they had been careful to give him small portions of stale bread only, once a day, and it didn't suffice to build back his strength. They had made sure of that.

Even without a mirror, Percival could feel in his bones and his muscles that he had lost weight, too much and too fast, and without the strength in his punches, starting a fight with his captors would be useless. Even if he hadn't felt so starved, his weary body and his broken rib would have slowed him down and put him at a disadvantage.

Every day he remained there weakened him more, a fact that he was not too proud about, and the worse was the waiting. Waiting for... anything, really. The moment he would get a few more kicks, the tip of a shoe in his face. The yelled questions, demanding information, agents identities and aliases.

Every time they had asked, he'd spat in their face. He wouldn't break, not on that. Ever since his capture, he knew that every single one of his colleagues, subordinates and friends, had to worry about whether or not he would crumple under the pressure and reveal the CIA's most guarded secrets, whether he would compromise them or not - but he couldn't disappoint them. It was his job to protect his agents, even though they had failed him, even though they weren't coming for him...

No.

Those were not his own thoughts, not his own words. His captors kept repeating these damn sentences, how no one cared about him, not enough to find him anyway, how he would be useless once he'd have told them his secrets, how they would leave him to die and no one would notice, no one would cry for him.

Percival knew that it wasn't true. Tina cared, Newt cared, hell, Abernathy was his number one fan at the office, and sweet Queenie, and Seraphina, and... But what if they were right? What if they believed him to be dead already, what if Riddle had played them and tricked them into thinking that he had already been dealt with?

No.

That wasn't true. But even if it was... He knew that Credence would never let them give up on him. He would knock some sense into them if he had to, he would... But no. That wasn't true either. Credence was heartbroken and alone, thinking that Percival didn't love him anymore, just like he had wanted him to. He had taken away the right to choose from the beautiful young man who loved him from the bottom of his heart, he had decided for him that it would be better to cut all ties before something bad could happen to him, before Credence had to mourn him. Even with his letter, Credence had to hate him. For playing with his feelings, for making all the calls in this... Percival hated himself for it, so how could his lover not feel the same hatred toward him?

Credence deserved so much better than a CIA agent who lied to him, even in order to protect him... So maybe these men were right, maybe no one would come for him, maybe no one would _care_. He would suffer more beatings and then die in this dark basement where no one could hear him scream.

Percival startled when a creaking, metallic sound resounded around the room as someone opened the door to step inside, the artificial light from the hallway beyond the door creating a halo behind the dark silhouette. This was no angel, though. For a short-lived instant, Percival thought, hoped, that perhaps it was time for his lunch - dinner? Breakfast? He didn't remember... Not that it mattered anyway, in the end. The man who entered the basement was carrying a baseball bat, tapping it lightly but threateningly on his open palm.

Percival's good eye slowly shut and he shuddered in despair. They were right: he would die alone.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who still reads and supports this story, it means a lot to me! Your kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions make me so happy, and your comments keep me motivated and make me feel loved, haha! Until the next chapter, take care of yourselves! ;)


End file.
